


Sylvanas finds comfort in her Dark Rangers

by Attempt_137_at_finding_a_user_name



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Elf Ears, F/F, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Psychological Trauma, Sylvanas needs a hug, Trauma, cuddlepile of elves, healthy coping mechanism, or 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24585940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attempt_137_at_finding_a_user_name/pseuds/Attempt_137_at_finding_a_user_name
Summary: Sylvanas has a really bad flashback and her Rangers take care of her.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	Sylvanas finds comfort in her Dark Rangers

**Author's Note:**

> This Story plays shortly after the founding of Undercity.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it.

The Dark Lady was inspecting the ruins of Lordaeron to find a suitable location to rebuild a marketplace in hopes of establishing trade with other races. Maybe that would help them learn about the Forsaken and accept them more readily. It was her attempt at establish trust between them and the other Races of Azeroth.

A temporary market area had already been set up, for now it still was almost exclusively the Undead bustling around there. But from her vantagepoint on top of a half collapsed building she could see a handful of Goblins trying to make a profit, two orcish blacksmiths selling their goods and even a Sin’dorei deep in conversation with two of her Forsaken.

Sylvanas knew that many of her people were no fighters, and for better or worse, she was their Queen now. Their Dark Lady. And as such she was responsible for every single one of them. In life she had been a General. She may have failed to protect Silvermoon, but she still knew how to lead soldiers. Civilians however were a new challenge. This market had been the result of her recent attempts to encourage the common folk amongst the Forsaken to return to their old trades.

There in the market below was a Forsaken man with half his face missing, yet still somehow smiling against the odds of gravity tearing of his jaw. On his head rested a flower crown, and before him was a display of various flower arrangements. Whilst Sylvanas’ glowing red eyes might have caught on his display simply for the speck of colour it provided in the otherwise mostly grey and brown bustle, it was one very specific bouquet of yellow tulips that had her unable to look away.

Sylvanas was crouched there atop the crumbling ruin of a house, red gaze firmly locked on the flowers amongst a field of which her heart had beat for the last time. The flowers amongst which she had cried her last tears, now burnt into the skin of her cheeks, a constant reminder of her unspeakable anguish over her failure to protect her people. Memories were crashing in upon her mind. Memories of the horrors Arthas had inflicted upon her and some of her people. She did not know how long she had been there, unmoving save for the shaking of her hands and ears. Hands that had never faltered before were shaking like leaves now at the mere sight of flowers. She did not notice though, too caught up in the memories haunting her.

After what might have been no more than a minute, or up to over an hour, she was found by her always loyal dark Rangers and dragged away towards her chambers in the hidden city below. After a while of numbly stumbling along with the two Rangers flanking her she finally looked up at each of them. Velonara was to her right, guiding her with a steady grip on her elbow, towering slightly over Sylvanas. To her left was Anya, slightly smaller than herself and with her hand clasping Sylvanas’, their fingers interwoven. But most noticeable was the same haunted look gracing their features that she imagined her own face must be sporting. For they too had died upon that cursed field of beautiful flowers and they had seen what had thrown her into such a state of distress.

Velonaras hand glided from her elbow down towards her hand, clasping it tightly to get the trembling of the offending limb under control. Her and Anya were pulling Sylvanas through hidden passages and less travelled routes towards her private quarters in Undercity. Through some miracle they managed to avoid running into any one of her Forsaken subjects and reached the Rangers quarters in record time. The quarters of the dark Rangers consisted of one large room styled in the way of military barracks except for the beds being utterly untouched. But more importantly, there was a secret passageway from here to Sylvanas’ quarters. 

When the three elves reached their destination Sylvanas slumped over immediately, any unconscious need to appear strong leaving her. Anya and Velonara busied themselves with ridding her of her armour, stripping her down to just a pair of soft doeskin breeches and her chest wrappings. Then stripping themselves, Velonara chose the same state of undress Sylvanas was now in, while Anya chose to remove all clothing. Then the three of them made their way to the bedchamber side by side.

Sylvanas’ bedchamber was very large. The room was dominated by a square bed so huge that its width and length was approximately three times Velonaras height. The bedsheets were black and there was a smattering of black and purple pillows and blankets strewn across its surface. The rest of the room was taken up by two large sofas and four loveseats, all black and very comfortable. The floor was covered with pelts of soft fur. On the far side of the room there was a door to the bath chambers where one would find four bathtubs of varying sizes, the largest one capable of comfortably seating eight Rangers.

The four dark Rangers currently occupying the bed acknowledged their entry with flicks of their ears. They were one mass of tangled limbs and flicking ears that looked ridiculously small on the overly huge bed. Sylvanas longed to be part of that tangled heap of flesh and moved towards the bed with renewed purpose. Velonara and Anya following close behind. They too needed the comfort of their fellow Rangers to recover from the emotional turmoil caused by those cursed flowers and the memories that just wouldn’t stay buried for long.

The elves that were already on the bed welcomed the newcomers with open arms, and upon seeing the distress so clearly showing in their faces and low and trembling ears they made sure to that Sylvanas, Anya and Velonara were in the centre of the elf pile and curled themselves tightly around them.

Words were unnecessary when one had known each other for as long as they all had. The Rangers had always been a touchy lot, finding comfort in feeling each other still alive and kicking after a battle. But now in their undeath the torment their souls had been put through only strengthened this desperate need to feel each other close. To feel safe and accepted in a world that saw them as unnatural monsters.

Here, with her face pressed into Areiels neck, one of her Rangers strong arms tightly wrapped around her, the other rubbing soothing circles on her still trembling ear and Velonara spooning her from behind, Sylvanas Windrunner Queen of the Forsaken felt safe and sound. Here she could heal from whatever horrors this cruel world of theirs put her through.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought of this story in the comments.


End file.
